


Sick Day

by snarkymuch



Series: Sick Days [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fever, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:38:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymuch/pseuds/snarkymuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a fever and Dean takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment in a series of one-shots. They are all going to be sick or hurt Sam. Sam and Dean are in an established relationship. Basically a lot of hurt/comfort fluff.

Dean woke in the morning with the feeling of heavy limbs draped over him. It made him feel good, contented. He stroked a hand up and down Sam’s back, trailing his fingers along his hot skin.

Sam snuffled and shifted, rubbing his stubbly cheek against Dean’s shoulder. Dean smirked and leaned his head forward, pressing a kiss to Sam’s head.

He was still feverish, and Dean could hear the congestion in his chest.

He checked his watch. It was nearly time for another dose of meds. As much as he didn’t want to, he was going to need to wake Sam.

Dean brought up his other hand and stroked it along Sam’s arm and then down his side, tracing over his bare hip. “Sammy,” he whispered. “Time to wake up.”

Sam groaned and threw his leg over Dean higher, pressing himself up against him. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbled.

Dean ran his hand through Sam’s hair, brushing it away from his eyes. “I know, but can you at least roll over so I can get up? I need to get your meds. And honestly, bro, you’re sweaty as hell.”

Sam ran his hand down the planes of Dean’s chest and across his stomach, slowly trailing a path down his stomach to what lay below. “Maybe I would rather just stay right here.” He wrapped his hand around Dean and gave him a playful squeeze.

Dean sucked in a breath and threw his head back, biting his lip. “You don’t play fair.”

Sam lifted his head and smirked as he began to trail open mouth kisses across Dean’s chest, licking and biting his way along the muscles of his chest.

Dean could feel himself growing harder. “Sam…”

Sam looked up at him innocently, bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

Dean chuckled. “Don’t give me that look, like you’re not doing anything.” He pushed himself up on his elbows. “You’re sick, Sam, and you need to rest. Let me go get your meds and something to drink, and then we can lie in bed all day if you like.”

“Fine,” Sam huffed, dropping back to the mattress with a thump.

A moment later, Sam’s large form was racked with coughs. He gasped and wheezed, trying to catch his breath.

Dean jumped out the bed and went to the table, grabbing Sam’s inhaler. “Here,” he said, tossing it to Sam, who caught it easily with one hand.

Sam drew a shaky breath through the inhaler and held it. A cough broke from him though, and he began hacking again.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean said, “You need to take another hit.”

Sam shot him a bitch face and drew another breath through the inhaler and held it for longer this time. He let the breath out slowly, and immediately his breathing sounded a little better.

Dean grabbed the cough syrup and thermometer from the table. He walked back over to the bed, taking a seat beside Sam.

“Okay, first things first, take a shot of this,” Dean said, handing the bottle to Sam. “It’ll help with that cough and hopefully bring your fever down a notch.”

Sam took the bottle and opened it, giving it a sniff. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. “I’m only doing this for you, you know.” Sighing, Sam brought the bottle to his lips and took a swig.

Dean watched Sam’s throat work as he swallowed the medicine. Even sick Sam was beautiful.

“That shit’s awful,” Sam said with a grimace.

“Here,” Dean held out the thermometer, “stick this under your tongue and shut up for a minute.”

Sam rolled his eyes but took the proffered device and stuck it in his mouth. “I would rather it was you in here.”

Dean smirked. “Maybe later, right now shut up and let the damn thing work.”

A moment later, the thermometer beeped. Dean plucked it from his mouth and read the display. He frowned at the reading, 103.4.

“What?” Sam asked. “You look constipated so it must be bad.”

“It’s high, Sam. 103.4. You need to rest.”

Sam yawned, suddenly feeling worn out. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, for a sick person you’re awesome.”

Dean tossed the thermometer on the nightstand and got up, walking to the fridge. He grabbed a small bottle of water and brought it to Sam.

“Here, drink this.” He opened the bottle and held it out to him. “You need to stay hydrated.”

“I’m not thirsty,” Sam grabbed the blanket and pulled it up over him. “M’cold.”

“Come on, Sammy, just a sip,” Dean said softly. “Please.”

Sam sighed, but reached up and took the bottle. He took and small sip and then handed it back to Dean, who then set it on the nightstand.

“I don’t feel good,” Sam moaned as he scooted down in the blankets. “Come lay with me, keep me warm.”

Dean smiled. “Scoot over.”

Sam rolled onto his side and Dean climbed into the bed behind him. He wrapped him in his arms and pulled him flush to his chest. He pressed his lips to the back of Sam’s neck. He could taste the salt on his skin. “I love you,” he whispered against him.

“Mmm, love you too.”


End file.
